


You Can't Cheat Death

by wisteriawall



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: 75th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Inspired by Poetry, One Shot, Sad Ending, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Spoilers, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisteriawall/pseuds/wisteriawall
Summary: Annie Cresta is in the third Quarter Quell and Finnick Odair wants nothing more than for her to stay alive long enough to be collected in the rescue mission, but reality is often a much harder pill to swallow than the worst daydreams.
Relationships: Annie Cresta & Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	You Can't Cheat Death

As if the arena hadn’t already proved horrible enough, now they were fighting for their lives against beasts. Hadn’t they already proven themselves? Been a decent enough show with their fighting and surviving against the elements and each other? Large monkeys lurked there in front of them, poised to attack, and Annie’s hand carefully drew her knife from the belt of her floatation device. When they sprung, she, too, rose to action. Back towards her lover, keeping an eye out on him from the corner of her eye. 

Before she knew it, or could stop herself, blood marred lovely tan hands, softened from years of lotioning to rid herself of the callouses from childhood. Hands soft enough to be worthy of holding Finnick’s face, and now they were ruined as her knife plunged into the chest of the mutt. Her face was sprayed by the damaged arteries’ outpour, the salty metal taste clear as day on her tongue. This was not the Annie Cresta she had come to recreate for herself, but rather the girl left behind in the 70th games. Harsh. Strong. Capable.

A killer.

The fight couldn’t have been long, but it felt like ages had passed. They are almost to the beach. Almost. She can smell the water, just barely see the sunlight through dense foliage, when the exposed switchblade of a claw dug deep into her midsection. She let out a cry of pain, free hand flying to the wound as her weapon swung blindly at the creature, slicing substantially enough to incapacitate. Then, Annie was on the ground. 

Strong arms swooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. A quick exchange of names. Where to go. Before she knew it, their group had backed onto the beach. So much for keeping a low profile. The pressure on the wound slows the external bleeding but hurts-- God, it hurt-- as if the nails were still inside her abdomen. 

When he sets her down on the beach, she can’t help but just ask him to hold her. “Please, please,” she begged, and of course Finnick had agreed, pulling her into his arms and onto his lap, hands pressing tight to her gash. 

She moved his hands, more desperate for the love than the slowed bleeding. This was the end, she wanted to be held tenderly. A chorus of “you’re going to be okay”s flood her ears, though she doesn’t fully process it. The words are floating away from and around her, lapping up like the waves that hit her cheek as her head rested in his lap. And she mouthed, “I love you.”

Annie can’t help but smile as the sun caught the back of his head and formed a halo with the flyaways on that famous head of hair. He looked like an angel. “No, I’m not,” she said, though it pained her to say it. She wouldn’t make it through this, she wouldn’t be okay. He seemed to recognize that after she reminded him that no parachute had come to help her, and so it was unlikely that one would come now. 

“Win for me though, okay?” She asked, and he promised he would. 

“Help me sit up,” Annie requested, and he obliged. She needed to tell him something. Head on his shoulder, face all but touching the crook of his neck, ragged breath hitting his skin. It might have been romantic if their situation weren’t so dire. It takes all her strength to lift her head to his ear, whispering in a pained voice, “It’s always been you, and it always will be,” she said. He was the love of her life, and he ought to know that. Even if he did know, she could imagine that hearing it once more would leave a warmer hue to his memory.

She would do it all over again if she had to. 

Lips press to his cheek, lingering for perhaps a moment too long to be friendly. Upon pulling away, she saw the blood left behind and almost wiped it away. Almost. Maybe it was a hallucination, but she could’ve sworn she heard his love professed to her in the sweetest array of sounds she’d ever heard. 

She can’t keep her head up, just resting it on his shoulder, tears rolling out the corner of her eyes, falling onto the fabric of his undershirt. Annie’s almost gone, and she is warm, kissed by the ocean, and held by a loved one. An enviable way to go, barring the wound to her abdomen. With her remaining strength, she carefully reached up, and with all the delicacy in the world, unclasped the heirloom necklace from around her neck. True gold, decorated with freshwater pearls on the delicate chain and with small diamonds adorning the crucifix that fell above her heart. Her prized possession, something much older than Panem. She dropped it into one of his hands, a final gift. 

And that’s when the panic set in. She was twenty-three, her birthday was in a month. There would be a party, she could not miss that. Could not miss her soulmate’s progression through adulthood and the trials that came with it. Could not miss their chance to grow old together. Could not miss him. 

Her heart began to race, a sob finally emerging from rose tinted lips. Pained and horrible, hand going to her stomach again. God, it hurt. “Finnick, ow,” she whined, suddenly the one filled with worry. She hadn’t gotten to pray to the God that she wasn’t even sure existed. Too many outstanding sins left unforgiven if her ancestors were correct and to be trusted with their view of the afterlife. Her breathing sped up and she curled into herself, leaning into him with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, crying out as the signs of life left her body. She’s shaking, skin cooling and clammy from the lack of circulation through her veins, breathing shallow and hard. Her head hurt, with no proper thought processing other than that she was here, she was dying, and Finnick was there to hold her. 

Then, it was over, it was impossible for it to have been more than a minute later after she’d begun to whine, repeating his name over and over. As a curse, a prayer, or maybe a plead for mercy. “Finnick, Finnick, Finnick...” She fell limp, slumping against his chest. Annie murmured his name just a few more times. Weaker, unfinished. And then the cannon sounded as her heart rate slowed to a final stop.


End file.
